


You're Welcomed Inside, Little Bird

by mrgoldsdearie



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Light-Hearted, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 12:38:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9491288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrgoldsdearie/pseuds/mrgoldsdearie
Summary: Edward hasn't returned home three days after Oswald embarrassingly confessed his love to him. When Oswald checks Edward’s bedroom to see if he's made it home, he unexpectedly walks in on a naked Mr. Nygma.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to make this smut, but I think it turned out much better without it. So I kept things sweet this time around since I’ll be writing smut for the Nygmobblepot Valentine's Day Event. I hope those who read enjoy. Please let me know what you think. Happy reading.

The late afternoon sun shines through the large window of the grand room at the Van Dahl estate, filtering through the curtains and reflecting warmth upon Oswald Cobblepot's freckled cheeks, as he tries to sleep through another hangover on the chaise lounge. He'd spend the last three nights in such consternation, waiting for his beloved chief of staff to return home, drinking himself unconscious. Oswald hasn't spoken to Edward Nygma since the day he desperately confessed his love to him, clinging wantingly on Edward's label. The moment was unsightly which left both men with a multitude of questions and regret.

Oswald pries his eyes open and rubs the sand from them, still clenching onto the warm glass of scotch he fell asleep holding. He sluggishly sits up, yesterday's outfit sticking to his humid flesh, and sighs heavily, “Oh, Ed.” Rests the glass on the coffee table, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What have I done? You were the only one—” buries his face in his hands, holding back tears of sorrow burning in his eyes— “and I've ruined it.” Oswald has been lost and lonely since that fateful day, unable to perform minuscule work tasks without his second in command. He runs an unstable hand through his sweaty raven hair, rises to his feet and slowly shuffles through the long halls of the mansion. He heads to the second floor to complete a task he's done aimlessly the last few days; peeking into Edward's bedroom to check if he’s ever made it home safely.

The Penguin stands in front the solid oak door to Edward's bedroom, forehead pressed against the entry, imaging beating his head through the wood. Why does he continue to torture himself? Scaring off his best friend with unrequited love was the last thing he wanted to do. Oswald lifts his head and rests his right hand on the gold plated door knob. He doesn’t know why he’s continued this routine, opening the door to an empty room every day always leaves him with a sense of hopelessness. He takes in a deep breath, preparing himself for his daily disappointment, and turns the knob to enter the bedroom.

Edward Nygma stands at the foot of the bed, naked body glistens from a refreshing shower, dropping his navy-blue towel to the floor. As he picks up his pair of green and black striped underwear, Edward feels a breeze sweep over his damp body and turns towards the door, finding a very discomposed Oswald Cobblepot under the threshold.

Time seems as though it has frozen for Mr. Penguin the instant he cracked open the door, trapped in the doorway of the man he loves and gawking at him in his birthday suit. The natural light radiating the room shimmers on the water droplets peppering Edward's pale chest, imitating the sparkle of glitter. That tall, slim, soaked body standing before him was an image this little bird had only imagined in his dreams. It's the most magnificent structure Oswald has ever seen.

“Ahhhh!!!”, Edward shrieks with horror.

“Oh, God!”, the Penguin yelled, frantically turning his body left and right, all sense of direction lost. “I’m so sorry.” He shields his eyes, backing up against the wall and his back makes a thud in the connection. “Ugh!” he huffs.

Edward’s eyes widen as he watches his friend struggle to find the door knob, never has he seen Mr. Penguin so disoriented.

Oswald manages to escape through the entryway, slamming the door behind him. “Fuck,” he mutters, falling back against the door, body jittering from the shock. _“He wasn't supposed to be in there,”_ he thought to himself, anxiously trying to gain control of his breathing. His heart rate had jumped a million beats per minute. _“Okay, he was supposed to be in there, but not naked!... Oh, God!... His body!”_ , he shouts internally, fidgeting with his hands to keep them from trembling, but the Penguin has lost all self-control.

The door abruptly creaked open from behind Oswald and he unexpectedly falls back into Edward's arms. The man has astonishingly fast reflexes.

“Ed!”, Oswald says, voice stricken with panic and surprise, mostly panic, as he gazes up at the one he thinks is the love of his life.

Edward leers down at the man in his arms, glasses misty from the shower. “I was hoping you were still out here.”

The Penguin blinks, trying to shake off his shock, but his emotions are unbelievably hard to hide. “You -- you were?”

The Riddler nods, faint smile glowing on his features. “Would you like to come in, Oswald?”

Viewing Edward in this odd position, smiling down at him, makes Oswald want to reach up and touch his cheek. The aroma of his fresh shave makes it harder to resist. Oswald never thought he'd see that grin again. He never thought he'd see his best friend. “You're inviting—” he clears his throat, the voice that escaped his lips was embarrassingly scratchy— “inviting me in?”

“Of course I am.”

Oswald takes pause and stares at the riddle-man’s heartbeat pulsing in his neck. He can't remember the last time he's been so close to Edward. Even that gentle rhythm drumming under his skin is wonderful. Is there anything at isn't breathtakingly gorgeous about Mr. Nygma? “Y-yes!”, he swiftly replies, seeing no point in further hesitating.

“Then rise to your feet, little bird.” He helps Oswald to regain his balance, gently lifting him from his arms.

Oswald stands with his back still to Edward, straightening his bedraggled attire to the best of his abilities, then turns to face his friend. “Ah!”, he squeals, eyes bugging out of his skull and he flinches back.

Edward Nygma stands before Oswald, with his left hand on his hip, absolutely naked.

“Ed!.... Ur, ur, ur….. You're….”, Oswald stammers. He rubs his eyes, hoping that the image before him is just a figment of his vivid imagination and he reopens them to find that it's not.

“So, are you coming in?” Edward opens the door wider and casually turns away from Oswald, stepping back to his bed.

Oswald gulps, eyes fixed on the tall slender man, admiring his physique and the way his calf muscles flexes with every step. “Yes,” he finally musters up a reply and quickly shuffles inside, shutting the door behind himself. He leans against the entrance, much like he did on the opposite side, keeping himself far away from Mr. Nygma. “I’m sorry about walking in on you. I -- I really didn’t expect to find you here. You -- you haven’t been home in three days,” he manages to say. With such a stunning distraction as a bare Edward Nygma before him, Oswald is astounded that he was able to mutter anything at all.

“It’s okay, Oswald. I’m happy you stopped by.” He picks up his underwear from the bed and faces his friend. “I needed to talk to you.”

“You do?” Oswald takes a meager step closer.

“Yes,” Edward smirked, slipping his legs into his cotton undergarments, adjusting his package snugly inside.

Oswald’s heart stops and he backs up to the door, unable to rip his eyes away from the delicate movements of Edward’s hand in his underwear. He watches the Riddler shifts his cock and balls, jiggling his body in the most comfortable position. Oh, God, Oswald does that to himself every day, but witnessing Mr. Nygma has him drooling at the mouth.

Edward peeks up, catching Oswald gawking, and another contorted grin shines on his face.

“I’m so sorry,” Oswald frantically apologizes. “I shouldn’t be…. I shouldn’t be….”

“It’s okay, Oswald.” He glides up to the door, standing in front of Mr. Cobblepot. “I don’t mind you looking.”

“You -- you don't? Why not?”

“Well—” he licks his lips— “that's what I wanted the talk to you about, why I haven't been home.”

“Oh—” a nervous snicker fall from the birdie’s lips— “really?”, Oswald asks. He's wanted to have this conversation with Edward since the last time he laid eyes on him, but he still isn't sure if he's ready. “Be-because, I’m truly sorry about what happened between us.”

“Please, no need to keep apologizing,” Edward says, hoping to calm some of Oswald's nervousness. “You didn't do any wrong.”  

“But I made you run away. I was a desirous fool that didn't take your feelings into any consideration. I was being selfish.”

“No you weren't, Oswald,” he assures his friend. “I will admit that I was scared and shocked at the time.” He didn't expect to see the mayor of Gotham present himself so bare and vulnerable to him that day. “But what you did took courage and I respect you for that.”

“You respect me?”

“Of course, I do.” Edward ghosts the back of his hand across Oswald's freckled cheek.

The Penguin takes in a sharp breath, turning his head away. What could have changed between now and the last they've spoken? None of this can actually be happening, can it? Oswald is expecting to wake up from a dream at any moment, but he never does. Edward tenderly touching him is in his reality.

Edward is slightly alarmed when Oswald shies away. He thought his sensitive touch would be more welcomed. He takes a step backward, folding his hands behind his back. Maybe he's coming on a little too strong. “I respect you more than anyone I've ever known and I'd still do anything for you.”

Oswald longs into Edward's dark chocolate eyes. He's wanted this, everything that has just happened for the longest time, but nothing about the situation makes sense. Especially after their fallout.

Is this game? Is this all just a joke to play with his fragile emotions?

“No—” he shakes his head, closing his eyes— “no!” Oswald cries, opening his eyes with tears threatening to fall to his cheeks. “Why did you run away?”, he demands an answer, limping past Edward. His anxiety is slowly fading into paranoia. “Why didn't you come home?” He turns back to Edward, jabbing his finger into the Riddler’s hairless chest. “I know what you're doing,” he snaps.

Edward can see the pain in Oswald's eyes and his heart shatters knowing that he’s the cause of it. “I'm sorry I made you worry, but I really didn't know what else to do. I needed to take some time to myself and reflect on what could be the next step for me. I needed to think about what was right. I promise you, Oswald, I'm not doing anything but finally admitting the truth to you and myself.”

“What do you mean?”

The Riddler closes a little of the gap between them, taking hold of Oswald’s left hand. He's wanted to hold him again since he fell into his arms. “I feel the same way about you,” he confesses. “I always have. I’m just now finding the courage to say it out loud.”

Oswald gazes down at their fingers laced together. Oh, how it feel so good, _so very good_ , to be linked to the one he loves. But he can’t enjoy the sensation of their touch the way he’d always hoped. The atmosphere of the moment is bittersweet.

“You feel the same?” Oswald squints, tilting his head slightly to the right. “I don't get it. I don't understand.” He’s spent three days worrying if he had made his best friend loath him. How could Edward leave him to think something like that? “Why did you make me feel that way? I felt terrible. Like I hurt you. Like I killed our friendship.” He slips his hand from his best friend's grip. “Why did you do that to me?”

“I'm horrible when it comes to emotions, especially my own,” Edward admits. He thought having time away from each other would help them both to think more clearly. He was right to take the time for himself but completely misjudged how his sudden departure would make Oswald feel. “I always intended to come back. I just didn't think you'd be so broken…. I'm sorry, Oswald, I didn't mean to break your heart.”

“But you did.”

“I was scared and my fear made me do something stupid. But I’m standing here before you, in my underwear—” the Riddler’s lips curl up into a half grin— “begging for your forgiveness.”

Though Oswald was on the verge of tears, a small smile cracks on his face from Edward comment. He believes that Edward didn’t mean to hurt him, but he still can't bring himself to forgive him just yet. “I need to hear you say it," he demands, hands clenching into fists at his sides.

“Say what?”

“How you feel about me. You still haven’t really said it.”

After taking the time to accept his feeling, these words are no longer hard to say. “I love you, little bird,” he finally reveals, retaking Oswald's hand and the Penguin's tense fists instantly relaxes to his touch. At this point, he doesn't think the shorter man will reject his loving embrace for a second time. “These last three days—" Edward affectionately grazes his thumb over the top of Oswald's hand— "back in that old loft, all I thought about was you and the time we spent there together. I was lonely without you and I wanted you to by my side. I needed to tell you how much I loved you too.”

Oswald sniffs, still holding back the tears burning in his eyes. His words made his heart skip several beats. “You really do mean it?”, his lips wobble as he speaks.

“Of course I do.” He takes Oswald's other hand and grips them both firmly, slowly pulling him closer.

They share a moment of silence, beaming at each other, feeling as though a new chapter in their lives has started, high on a rapture of delight.

After a moment, Edward decides to breaks the serene void between them and gives Oswald a riddle to solve. “I am a ship that can withstand the greatest of waves. I am not built by materials—” he lets go of Oswald's right hand and delicately places a slim finger on the other man’s temple, then on his own— “but constructed of minds. What am I?”

Oswald blinks, unsure of how to respond. His heart is thumping profusely in his chest and his thoughts are clouded with everything from the way Edward's hairless chest moves in and out with every breath he takes, to the idea that his love for the Riddler isn't all one sided. He can't possibly think of an intelligent answer. “I don't know, Edward.” He shrugs slightly. “I really don't know what it is.”

“It's friendship,” he reveals the answer, gentle grin illuminating his face. “I hope for one day that ours can grow into something more.”

The Penguin is filled with such happiness that can do nothing but lower his head and blush, smiling timidly. Standing in Edward's room like this is all too surreal to fathom. “I would immensely enjoy for that to happen," he says softly.

“Well—” Edward, rest his hand under his friend’s chin and gradually lift his head— “it would bring me unbelievable pleasure to kiss you. If you will you allow me the honor?”

Oswald licks his quivering lips, his palms sweaty with anticipation. A kiss. A kiss between them both is a dream made true. “Yes,” he answers. The word quickly flew out more eagerly than he'd like, but before he could clear his throat and give a more composed reply, the Penguin’s lips are introduced to the sweet taste of Edward Nygma’s. Oswald breathes in and he closes his eyes, a single tear streaming down his flushed cheek.

Edward snakes his hands around Oswald’s back, drawing him closer against to his bare skin. He parts his lips as a welcoming invitation and Oswald accepts his offer, slipping the tip of his tongue skillfully inside. The Riddler meld into him and the taste of his warm breath, which still has the faint flavor of scotch.

“Mmm….” Oswald sighs sweetly, sliding his hands down Edward's spine, tickling his skin, causing his back to curve underneath the birdie’s touch. He smoothly breaks off their intense embrace, nipping at Edward’s bottom lip as he pulls away. “That was—” opens his eyes, slowly coming down from the wispy cirrus clouds— “unbelievably extraordinary,” he says breathily.

Edward caresses his thumb across Oswald's moist pouty lip. “It was that good?”, he asks hushed.

“Absolutely.” Oswald stands on his toes and hugs his best friend dearly, blowing tiny kisses on his pale left shoulder. “I forgive you, by the way.”

“I was wondering about that.”

“You don't have to wonder anymore.” He draws out of the hug and takes a step back. Though they’ve set the stones for a more intimate relationship, there is an unspoken agreement between them to move along slowly. “What now, Ed?”, he asks. “Where do we go from here?”

“Well, I can get dressed and we can talk some more.”

“Just—” he tips his head slightly — “talk?” Oswald had expected for him to suggest something more exhilarating. He didn't know what, but talking wouldn't have been the first idea to come to his mind.

“Yes.” Edward nods, picking the lint off of Oswald's shoulder. “Though we already know each other, there's always something more we can learn.”

“That sounds nice.” He's excited to spend the rest of the day at home, getting to know his best friend on a more intimate level.

“I’m glad.” Edward straightened the collar of the Penguin’s white button down shirt. “You look like you slept on the couch,” he chuckles, closing the top bottoms of the fabric.

“That’s because I did.”

“Oh—” he drops his arms at his side— “sorry about that,” he says, regret painted on his face.

“It's okay, Ed,” Oswald assures him. “That's all in the past now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, my dearest friend. I meant it when I said I forgave you.”

“Thank you, Oswald. I promise to never let you down again.”

“You don't have to promise me that.”

Edward cups his rosy freckled cheek. “I already did.”

Oswald rests his hand on Edward's forearm, gently rubbing his skin, eyes leisurely traveling his half naked body. God, he’s beautiful. Edward Nygma is the most stunning man Oswald has ever seen. “Can I ask you something, Ed?”, he questions, gazing back upon the taller man's face.

Edward nods as an answer.

Oswald couldn't shake the question he's about to ask, even with all they’ve discussed, this thought still reared in the back of his mind. “You came to the door naked just to fuck with me, didn't you?”

The Riddler lets out a short boisterous laugh, he's been figured out. “Indeed I did, Oswald,” he says with a toothy grin. “It was amusing to watch you squirm.” He turns away from Oswald and picks up his pants from the bed, finally deciding to continue to dress. “And it was adorable,” he adds with a wink, peeking back as Oswald from over his right shoulder.  

Oswald Cobblepot blushes even brighter, the freckles on his cheeks more visible over the iridescent shade. “Eeedwarrrd,” he sing-songs his name, suppressing his laughter.

“It's the truth.”  He faces back to his friend, pulling the zipper up on his black pants. “I bet you'll be thinking about me when you rest your head to sleep tonight,” he teases, arching an eyebrow.

The birdie snorts, seeing no reason in being coy. “Well, of course,” he replies, without any hesitation, painting a clear picture of what he intends. And Oswald will think of Nygma, and his statuesque body, alone in his bed. Doing more than just reliving these moments in his thoughts.

Edward steps back up to Oswald, taking his face gently in his hands, squishing his soft cheeks. “Good.” He leans into him with a crooked grin and kisses the charcoal-haired man on the brow. “I'll be thinking about you as well, little bird.”


End file.
